SPAIN: Anarchist's End

Across the French border, a stocky, handsome
Catalonian, his head wound in a woolen balaclava against the biting
Pyrenees winds, led a small band through a high mountain pass into
Spain. Francisco Sabater had made the trip a hundred times before, and
as always, he expected to arrive unannounced. But someone in France had
talked, and Spanish policemen from Barcelona to the borderthe
"state troopers" of the Guardia Civil, city detectives, even
village watchmenwere on the alert for him. For 20 years, Sabater had
defied capture; for ten years he had ranked...